


All You Have To Do Is Ask

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I would like to watch this time, if you do not mind.”</p>
<p>Sparks ain’t particularly into being watched, gets a bit self-conscious about his performance, but Red loves it more than just about anything, and Croach asks for stuff so matter-of-factly it’s hard to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Have To Do Is Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Theoretically this is set post-[Homestead](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4950151), but requires zero context for enjoyment.

“I would like to watch this time, if you do not mind.”

Sparks ain’t particularly into being watched, gets a bit self-conscious about his performance, but Red loves it more than just about anything, and Croach asks for stuff so matter-of-factly it’s hard to say no.

Sparks lets his eyes trail down, slow, to where Croach is already teasing his fingers over his slit, and back up to meet Croach’s gaze, hot and intent.

Yeah, he can be okay with this.

“If you two’re done eyefuckin’,” Red says, “some of us are waitin’ for the real thing.”

Red fucks like she does everything else: hard, and wild, and like she’s tryin’ to win a race. She’s always rushing him and Croach, starting without ‘em when they’re too slow, and now ain’t an exception. She’s got her legs spread wide, cheeks flushed already, fucking herself slowly on two fingers.

“Looks like you’re doin’ just fine,” Sparks says, watching her roll her hips against her slick fingers. Maybe he’ll just watch this time, too; it’s a Hell of a sight.

“Just get over here,” she says, breathy and sharp, and ain’t no disobeying an order like that.

Sparks settles in between her legs, takes a deep breath just to watch her blush and roll her eyes. She’s so wet already, so eager, so easy for him - for them. Red hasn’t stopped fucking herself, so Sparks just works his tongue around her fingers, gets a good taste of her. 

He’s good at this, always has been, and if Croach wants a show this is the best one he can think to give. 

“No, I don’t - “ Red starts, cuts herself off with a sharp cry when Sparks flicks his tongue against her clit. “Dammit, Nevada.”

“Too much?”

“Not enough,” she says, and tries to pull him up by his hair like she ain’t tried it enough times to know his hair ain’t long enough to get a good grip on.

Sparks tries not to pout; he’d been looking forward to the sort of good long tease that gets her too blissed out to rush him. It shouldn’t surprise him she ain’t in the mood for that, but still.

“Fine,” he says, draws it out with a long sigh, and slides up over her before she starts grabbing at his ears. She laughs, clear and loud, probably the best of all the many sounds he or Croach can get out of her.

Croach is watching the whole thing with his brow furrowed, confused, but he’s breathin’ shallower and his slit’s opening up under his fingers, so he must be doin’ okay. Sparks maybe gets a little distracted, watching the way he’s teasing himself, apparently waiting to slip his fingers in where he’s soft and wet and needy until Sparks and Red really get going.

Red snaps him out of it by slapping his ass, hard.

“Ow! Was that necessary?” 

“Apparently,” she says, grinning.

“I hate you,” Sparks says as he guides himself into her, slowly but not slowly enough to get hit again. “I assume you want it slow and gentle?”

“You’re the worst,” Red says, locks her legs around his back and draws him in for a rough kiss.

Sparks falters, at first, has a hard time thinking of anything but how this probably ain’t much of a view for Croach, all arms and legs and none of the good stuff, but Red commands enough of his attention he forgets soon enough. Red tightens up all over when he fucks her, holds him in close with her legs on his waist and her hands on his back and her cunt clenching around him as he fucks her good and hard. She’s good, always so good, hot and slick around him, biting at his lips when he’s kissin’ her and at anything she can reach when he can’t hold his head up anymore and has to bury it in her neck.

Red pushes him, bucks her hips wild and frantic, grinds against him when he pushes in and grips him harder when he pulls out. He always winds up worrying he’ll hurt her, bodies crashing together hard enough to bruise, but no matter how hard he fucks her she always, always pushes for more.

It’s when she lets go of him all at once, lets her legs fall and throws one arm over her head and goes loose and lovely all over, he knows she’s close, and he rears back for more leverage to really give it to her while she works her clit. She arches her back and grabs at the headboard and almost throws Sparks right off of her when she comes, cryin’ out a downright poetic string of obscenities.

She lets Sparks finish, which doesn’t take long at all after that, but shoves him off before he even goes soft. Red gets ornery after she comes, overheated and oversensitive and absolutely unwilling to be touched until she comes down.

“That was...I enjoyed that very much.”

There’s somethin’ wrong in Croach’s voice, and Sparks has just enough energy to lift his head and see what it is.

Croach is about as open as he gets, skin around his slit shiny and slick with his own wetness, egg sacs flutterin’ a bit as his muscles clench around nothing. His arms are shaking, tense, and his fingers are still dry, which means he’s just been teasing himself the whole time.

Well. This is interesting. 

Sparks rolls over and tucks himself against Croach’s side, enjoying the way Croach shivers at the contact. Croach is cool to the touch, as usual, and Sparks shivers himself a little at the shock to his overheated skin.

Sparks runs his hand down Croach’s stomach to where he’s soft and warm and open, and Croach groans like he’s dying.

“Don’t torture him, Nevada,” Red mumbles.

“It is not torture, The Red Plains Rider,” Croach says, shifting his hips to try and coax Sparks’ fingers inside. “It is pleasurable.”

She laughs a little, and Sparks shifts his focus back to mimicking Croach’s slow strokes at the edge of his slit.

“I think it should be my turn to watch,” Sparks says, rests his chin on Croach’s shoulder. “Get yourself off for me?”

“It is better when you do it for me,” Croach says, but he obliges, works his long fingers inside himself and sighs. 

Croach is always so well-controlled, aware and able to take charge of all sorts of things Sparks’ body just kind of does unconsciously. He loses that control some when he’s like this, but not entirely, and it’s always different. Tonight it’s all in his arms, shakin’ a little from the strain of not doing this earlier, and his face, changin’ expressions every microsecond at the slightest touch.

“Feel good?” Sparks asks.

“Obviously,” Croach says, pissier than anyone this turned on has any right to be.

“I bet it does,” Sparks says, tries to ignore the pissiness. He’s gonna get at least one of these two talkin’ dirty to him if it kills him. “Always feels so good when you fuck me.”

“I know that, Sparks Nevada. I monitor your reactions closely.”

“It’s a lost cause, Nevada,” Red says, and rolls over to press against his back. “Mm, that’s a pretty picture.”

Croach fucks himself so much more slowly and precisely than Sparks or Red do, rotating his wrist as he works his fingers in deep. Sparks doesn’t think he’s ever seen him quite so turned on, mottled flush all over him, open wide and needy, sweet slick sucking sound of his body trying to keep his fingers inside.

“This how you like it? Get all worked up, then take it nice and slow?”

“Why are you interrogating me?” 

Red laughs into Sparks’ neck. “Leave him alone,” she says against his skin.

“Don’t reckon I will,” Sparks says, but Croach is gettin’ pretty ornery so he’ll at least change his tactics.

Sparks has been trailin’ his fingers around Croachs’s slit, not close enough to interfere with anythin’, just enough to feel the way his muscles pulse and flutter under his skin. Croach used to feel kinda plastic to Sparks, exo-skin harder than he expects skin to feel like, but Sparks is used to touchin’ Croach, now, and he just feels like, well, Croach.

Croach gasps when Sparks pushes two fingers inside him; he must be turned on, he’s usually better at anticipating stuff like that. He’s so slick, wetter than Spark is used to, and his fingers tangle with Croach’s and throw off the rhythm he’d gotten into.

“Tell me,” Sparks says, watchin’ frustration spread across Croach’s face.

“Tell you _what_ , Sparks Nevada?”

“How you like it. What’m I doin’ different than you were?”

“Deeper,” Croach says, and Red sucks in a sharp breath. Lost cause Sparks’ ass. “You need to - there is a nerve cluster.”

Sparks angles his wrist, pushes in deeper on the next stroke, almost as far as he can, and his fingers collide with Croach’s on a slick little bump.

Croach - calm, controlled Croach - cries out, loud. Real loud.

“Bagropa,” Red mumbles, breathy; she’s put a little space between her hips and Sparks’, but he can feel her arm shifting, feel her gettin’ herself off again. If he had a better angle he’d reach back with his free hand and help her out, fuck ‘em both at the same time, make ‘em both crazy for him.

He’ll remember that for next time. He’s got to focus on this, now.

“Your fingers are so warm,” Croach says, shaky. He’s twitchin’ his hips, a little frantic, arms still shakin’, moanin’ on every breath. They should push him like this more often.

“Feel good?” Sparks asked, rotates his wrist the way Croach had been before, lets his fingers slip and slide and bump into Croach’s on that little nub.

“It does, Sparks Nevada, it feels _very_ good.”

“That’s why I was interrogatin’ you,” he says, and leans up to kiss Croach hard and deep before he can argue. Croach groans against his mouth, bucks his hips against Sparks’ hand, and comes, clenching up so hard Sparks thinks he might lose his fingers.

Behind him, Red’s shakin’ through her second orgasm, bites down on his shoulder harder than’s strictly necessary.

He breaks away from Croach. “Ow.”

“You loved it,” she says, slaps at his ass again with her slick hand. 

“Fair,” he says, and tries to twist around to kiss her but she’s too focused on Croach to meet him halfway. When he twists back to look at Croach, he sees why.

“You okay, Blue One?”

Sparks has seen Croach dead, and also almost dead a whole bunch of times, and if he didn’t have the right context he’d probably assume this was one of those times. Red must be worried, if she ain’t moved away from Sparks due to post-orgasm orneriness.

“I am fine. That was...intense.”

“Yeah. Why ain’t you ever asked for that before?” Sparks asks.

“You have very short - “

“Croach!” Red cuts him off. 

“He does have very short fingers, The Red Plains Rider. I was not sure you would be able to do that for me.”

“They ain’t _that_ short.”

“Apparently.”

Sparks laughs and rests his head on Croach’s shoulder. “You should ask for stuff more.”

“Perhaps.”

“Speakin’ of, can I have my hand back?”

“No,” Croach says, but his body’s finally relaxin’ a bit and Sparks thinks he might at least get circulation back. “Not yet.”

Red’s snorin’ behind him, Croach is practically vibratin’ with satisfaction, and havin’ an excuse not to leave this bed anytime soon is perfectly fine with Sparks.


End file.
